


Open Up (Your Mind)

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual Mind Control, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21720598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “What are you thinking?”Barry shakes his head minutely. “Nothing.” His voice is sleepy but strong.“And how does that make you feel?”A dreamy little grin spreads across Barry’s face. He sounds almost surprised when he admits, “Good.”
Relationships: Barry Allen/Hartley Rathaway
Comments: 3
Kudos: 99





	Open Up (Your Mind)

“You’re sure you want to do this?” 

For once, the somewhat questionable suggestion wasn’t Hartley’s idea. Barry seems adamant that he wants to proceed. “Yes. You need to test it somehow.”

Hartley stares at the flute and then at Barry, who’s watching him with remarkable patience. He sighs. They’ve planned and discussed in as much depth as either of them could stand; there’s no way for him to stall. Finally, he raises the flute to his lips. “All right.” 

By the time Hartley has played four bars, Barry’s eyes have glazed over and his jaw has gone slack. His shoulders have slumped and his arms have gone limp by his sides; Hartley counts it a victory that he’s still standing. If he continues to play, he suspects Barry will collapse. 

“Look at me, Barry.” He sets the flute aside and steps closer. Barry raises his head and gazes obediently in the vague direction of Hartley’s face. His eyes are unfocused and utterly vacant, an alarming counterpoint to the curiosity they usually display. Hartley skims gentle fingertips over the angle of Barry’s jaw. “What are you thinking?” 

Barry shakes his head minutely. “Nothing.” His voice is sleepy but strong. 

“And how does that make you feel?” 

A dreamy little grin spreads across Barry’s face. He sounds almost surprised when he admits, “Good.” 

That’s a relief. Hartley had worried Barry might fight the flute’s influence, but he seems perfectly happy to let Hartley control him. “Good,” he parrots. “What about obedient? Do you feel ready to obey whatever I tell you to do?”

“Yes,” Barry agrees without hesitation. 

Hartley considers. He wants his first order to be something Barry would obey anyway, to ease them both into this idea. “You’re going to take off your clothes,” he orders. “With each article of clothing you remove, you’re going to feel more obedient than before.” On impulse, he adds, “You’re also going to feel more aroused than before.” 

Barry strips methodically out of his clothes. When he finishes, he stands still and relaxed. He’s half-hard, but he seems only dimly aware of it: he’s rolling his hips in a slow, steady rhythm but making no move to touch himself. 

“Good.” Hartley brushes his fingers through Barry’s hair. Barry leans into his touch, mouth falling open in pleasure. “Now get on your knees.” 

Barry drops to his knees heavily enough that it must hurt, but no pain registers in his expression. Hartley resumes his gentle petting of Barry’s hair. In response to the pressure, Barry tilts his head back, gazing vacantly up at Hartley in anticipation of new orders. 

“Touch yourself,” Hartley orders. 

Barry wraps a hand around his cock and strokes himself, his rhythm slow as though he wants to take his time. Hartley skims his thumb across Barry’s cheekbone. He’s sweet like this—not that he isn’t other times (his sweetness is what convinced Hartley to trust him, after all), but like this, he’s forced to be trusting. More than anything, Hartley wants to be worthy of that trust. 

“Every time I say ‘good,’ you’re going to feel this way again.” Perhaps it’s cruel to tie Barry’s pleasure to praise. Hartley knows all too well what it’s like to be willing to do anything for another kind word. However, given that they’ve planned everything in advance, and given that Barry was nothing short of enthusiastic about each intended step, Hartley isn’t going to use it to coerce him into anything he doesn’t want to do. “Every time I say ‘good,’ you’re going to feel the same pleasure you’re feeling right now.”

Barry whimpers. Hartley wants to read agreement into it, but given Barry’s empty eyes, it’s probably nothing more than a response to the pleasure he’s feeling. 

“You can keep touching yourself, but you will not come until I give you permission.” This, too, they agreed on beforehand. Barry was bizarrely enthusiastic about giving Hartley this level of control, although Hartley has faux-Wells-shaped reservations about it. Experimentally, he says, “Good, Barry. You’re being so good for me.” 

Barry whimpers and hitches his hips up into his hand. Pre-come oozes out of the slit and smears on his fingers. Hartley grins. If nothing else, it appears the trigger works. 

“Just like that,” he murmurs. With one hand, he keeps petting Barry’s hair; with the other, he unzips his fly. He nudges the head of his cock against Barry’s parted lips. “Suck.”

Barry sits forward and takes him eagerly in his mouth. He’s not passive, as Hartley had feared he might be; he’s so eager that, were it not for his glassy eyes, Hartley wouldn’t know he’s in trance. Hartley moans and fights not to roll his hips forward. The last thing he wants is to make Barry take more than he’s ready for. “Good, Barry…so good.”

Barry moans low in his throat. The vibrations make Hartley clench his fist in Barry’s hair, dragging Barry’s head back and prompting him to make a sound halfway between a moan and a whine. Hartley laughs breathlessly. “You like it when I pull your hair, don’t you? Does that feel good, sweet boy?”

“Mhmm,” Barry whimpers. He grazes his tongue over a sensitive spot that makes Hartley bite back a groan. It’s the perfect excuse to tug on Barry’s hair again, so Hartley does. This time, Barry’s vacant eyes close and the hand working his cock goes still, as though he has to stop or risk coming all over himself. Given his short refractory period, Hartley sees no reason to deny him. 

“Go ahead, Barry. Come.” 

Barry’s hips stutter up into his motionless hand and his mouth goes slack around Hartley’s cock. Hartley draws back. Fully conscious, Barry can and has continued to blow him through his own orgasm; in trance, Hartley doesn’t want to risk choking him. 

After Barry is done, his eyes drift open and he looks up at Hartley as though waiting for orders. Hartley strokes his hand through Barry’s hair. “You made a mess of yourself,” he says, nodding at the white streaks coating Barry’s hand. “Clean it up.” 

Obediently, Barry raises his hand to his lips and licks himself clean. Hartley pets and praises him while he does. As soon as he’s finished, Hartley pulls him into a kiss. 

“Get on the bed,” he orders. “Ass up.”

There’s a rush of air and Barry is on the bed, looking over his shoulder as though to ascertain that he’s done the right thing. Hartley raises his eyebrows. It’s good to know that even an entranced meta will use their powers—that could have been an unpleasant surprise in the field. “Good, Barry,” he murmurs, unbuttoning his shirt. As he speaks, he wanders to the bedside table and fetches out a packet of slick. “Perfect.”

As soon as he’s undressed, he kneels on the bed. Barry peers at him so sweetly that he can’t resist kissing the curve of his shoulder. “Relax,” he coaxes, bracing one hand on Barry’s waist and using the other to slick himself. It’s the wrong thing to say. Barry’s arms give out and he slumps facedown into the pillow. “Wait, no, don’t do that, don’t smother yourself…”

Barry turns his head to one side. At least he’ll be able to breathe, Hartley reassures himself. Evidently he needs to be more careful about what he says, or at least more specific. 

That thought, along with most others, forsakes him when he pushes inside. Barry is breathtakingly tight, but it’s the heat that leaves Hartley dizzy. (His accelerated metabolism generates more heat than an average human, as Caitlin has explained several times. Right now, Hartley cares less about the why and more about the fact that it feels _amazing._ ) “Oh fuck, Barry, so good…”

Barry keens and pushes his hips back. Hartley manages a breathless laugh. “Greedy,” he chides. “But that’s all right.”

Neither of them lasts long. Hartley means to play with Barry a bit, bring him to the edge several times and deny him permission to come, but his plans evaporate as soon as he wraps a hand around Barry’s cock. “Look at you,” he teases. “Already come once tonight and just aching for release again. I should make you wait.”

Barry moans into the pillow. His eyes flutter open, half-focus on Hartley, and roll back into his head. 

“Even I’m not that cruel.” Hartley twists his hand on Barry’s cock and thrusts into him sharply enough to make him keen. “Go ahead. Come for me.” 

Barry comes. Hartley fucks into him once, twice, and stays pressed against him as he comes too. 

After, Hartley cleans them up. This is less for his comfort than for Barry’s—while Hartley doesn’t mind being made a mess of, Barry has a distinct aversion to it. He might be able to clean himself with the proper coaxing, but he looks so peaceful that Hartley doesn’t want to disturb him. 

It takes another ten minutes or so before Barry sits up, wide-eyed and inquisitive. “Hartley?”

“You’re awake.” Hartley tosses him a nightshirt and a pair of briefs. He dresses all in a rush and curls back on the bed, smiling at Hartley so sweetly that he has to join him. “What do you remember?”

“Everything.” Barry grins. “You liked giving me orders, didn’t you?” 

Hartley opts not to answer. “Did you like it?”

“Yes!” At least he’s enthusiastic. Hartley was afraid he’d gone too far. “I thought about fighting just to see if I could, but it wouldn’t have worked. I wanted it too much.” 

Hartley raises an eyebrow. It’s an odd thing to want, especially given that Barry has been mind-controlled no small number of times in far less pleasurable situations. “And I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want?” That’s his biggest fear. He can forgive himself recklessness and callousness that borders on cruelty, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did to Barry what faux-Wells did to him. 

“No!” Barry looks surprised that he has to ask. “We made a plan, you followed the plan.” 

Hartley breathes a silent sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

Before he’s even finished talking, Barry lets out a little startled moan and rocks his hips. Hartley stares at him, astonished and a little alarmed. Barry clamps a hand over his mouth and blushes brightly. “Whoa, okay…”

Hartley buries his face in his hands. “I forgot to take away your trigger.”

He hadn’t thought it was possible for Barry’s blush to get any brighter. “Uh, okay, well, can you? I mean, now?”

He probably could, although it would mean putting Barry in trance again. Unless he can sort out a way to shorten the flute’s effects, doing so would leave him in charge of a hypnotized Barry for another hour. There’s another option—wicked, perhaps, but tempting. “I could, but I don’t think I will.”

“Hartley!” Barry’s eyes widen. Hartley smiles at him, wicked and promising. 

“Remember, I specified the trigger only works for me. You don’t have to worry about, oh, Cisco, for example, accidentally getting you hard. It’s just one more way for me to work you up, and I don’t think you’re too upset about that.”

Barry likes that idea more than he wants to; it’s clear from his pensive expression. Hartley leans close and promises, “I won’t even use it around the team…much.” 

“Oh God I hate you,” Barry mutters. “Okay, you don’t have to fix me yet, if you promise not to mess with me around the team or my family!” 

Hartley chuckles. That’s not a promise he’ll be able to keep, although he meant what he said about keeping any mischief to a well-timed minimum around the team. When he says, “Good boy,” it’s less to do with Barry’s agreement and more to watch how prettily he reacts. This time, in addition to blushing, Barry moans and spreads his legs. Hartley gives a little pleased hum and bends down to kiss him. “Like it?”

“Yeah,” Barry mumbles into the kiss. 

“Good,” Hartley teases, just to watch the way Barry blushes. He’s going to have a lot of fun with this.


End file.
